


i breathe easily in your arms

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3755440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When, after completing their high school graduation ceremony and heading home to enjoy their freedom, Oikawa had pulled him into his room and pressed his lips hesitantly against Iwaizumi’s own, it seemed an inevitable development in the unfolding narrative of their shared existence. </p><p>Despite years of having a bed to himself, the sensation of another body taking up space in his sheets, curling against his chest, creating warmth, feels natural in much the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i breathe easily in your arms

Iwaizumi rouses slowly, vision bleary and body encased in a snug nest of blankets that shield him from the cool morning air. The alarm clock on his nightstand reads eight o’clock—late by his usual standards, even for a Sunday—but the coziness of his bed renders him weak to temptation, inviting him to sleep for another hour or three.

Beside him, Oikawa dozes, his slow, even breathing punctuating the stillness of the room. Closing his eyes, Iwaizumi focuses on Oikawa’s gentle respiration as his mind begins to wander.

They’ve been together nearly their entire lives—for as long as Iwaizumi can remember, it’s always been him and Oikawa, a package deal—and even as they’d grown and changed, his faith in the perpetuity of their bond had never wavered. And when, after completing their high school graduation ceremony and heading home to enjoy their freedom, Oikawa had pulled him into his room and pressed his lips hesitantly against Iwaizumi’s own, it seemed an inevitable development in the unfolding narrative of their shared existence.

Despite years of having a bed to himself, the sensation of another body taking up space in his sheets, curling against his chest, creating warmth, feels natural in much the same way.

At that moment, Oikawa groans, bringing Iwaizumi out of his half-conscious musings.

He’s shifted during the night, now lying on his side with his arms wrapped around a pillow and one leg slung across Iwaizumi’s hips. Though disheveled and somewhat undignified, he still exudes a captivating beauty that, even after all this time, never fails to make the breath hitch in Iwaizumi’s throat. Iwaizumi studies Oikawa’s sleeping face, taking in one feature at a time: long, dark eyelashes fluttering against pale skin, the gentle curve of his nose, soft lips pursed in a slight pout—

“Shit,” Iwaizumi mutters, “even his drooling is cute…" 

It comes out louder than he intended, and Oikawa begins to stir, sighing as he wakes. Before he can fully open his eyes, Iwaizumi shuts his own and pretends to still be asleep.

“Iwa-chan, I know you’re awake,” Oikawa says. He speaks softly, voice a little rough from misuse.

No response.

“You were watching me sleep. Don’t pretend like you weren’t,” he continues, louder and clearer than before.

Iwaizumi doesn’t move a muscle.

“Iwa- _chan_!”

He lunges across the bed, ready to strike, when at last Iwaizumi abandons his act. He catches Oikawa in his arms, maneuvering their bodies so that Oikawa is beneath him 

More pouting ensues, this time deliberate and laughably over-exaggerated.

“Come on, you look ridiculous.”

“Hm…”

Keeping his eyes trained on Oikawa’s face, Iwaizumi says nothing.

“Don’t look at me,” Oikawa huffs. “If you can’t admit you were looking at me _before_ , you don’t have the right to look at me _n_ —”

Iwaizumi kisses him then, suddenly, and the word dies on Oikawa’s tongue. Despite his earlier theatrics he parts his lips, exhaling heavily; beneath him, Iwaizumi feels Oikawa’s muscles slacken and succumb to the softness of the mattress. 

“Your morning mouth is gross,” Oikawa says.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi replies, punctuating each word with tiny pecks, “yours isn’t too good, either.”

“You need to shave.” He runs a hand down Iwaizumi’s face, along the firm line of his jaw, fingers brushing the slight stubble that had begun to grow in.

“Last week you said you liked it. 

Oikawa scowls, defeated, but his eyes glow in the dim light of dawn, warm and wanting.

It’s _that_ look, the one that’s always ignited a fire in Iwaizumi’s stomach. Though he moves slowly—sliding his tongue languidly against Oikawa’s own, sucking his bottom lip, nipping softly at his jaw—desire courses through him, thrumming insistently beneath his skin and threatening to shatter his composure at any moment. He’s torn, caught between the exhaustion of Sunday morning and the present demands of his libido.

Beneath him, Oikawa exhales shakily, breath tickling Iwaizumi’s ear, and—to hell with restraint, Iwaizumi decides; he’s always been a man of action, and indecision has no place in his life, especially not when it comes to Oikawa.

Moving almost involuntarily, he grinds against Oikawa’s groin. Oikawa whimpers into his mouth at the unexpected contact, hips jerking upward as if struck by an electric current. His erection presses firmly against Iwaizumi’s thigh, and Iwaizumi can’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction when he sees Oikawa’s eyes snap shut and his mouth falls open as a wave of pleasure rolls over him. 

It’s not the first time they’ve woken up naked in the morning, especially not on a weekend, but for some reason Iwaizumi has never considered the possibilities this situation could invite until now. 

“Hey,” he says, nudging his thigh between Oikawa’s legs, “last night wasn’t enough for you?”

Not that he’s one to talk, of course—he’s nearly all the way hard himself, cock twitching with every needy sound that escapes Oikawa’s lips.

Oikawa’s face, already flushed with arousal, reddens even more, and he quickly covers it with both hands. “I thought only I was allowed to be the tease here, Iwa-chan. Don’t say such embarrassing things…” 

Iwaizumi pries Oikawa’s hands away from his face, pinning them on either side of the pillow and planting a firm kiss against his mouth. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Anything is fine.” 

In spite of his current state, Oikawa seems content to just lie back on the pillow, and Iwaizumi can tell he’s struggling somewhat to keep his eyes fully open. Sex is certainly great in itself, but it’s moments like these that Iwaizumi truly cherishes—off the court, away from the eyes of others, before Oikawa has had time to ease into his meticulously crafted public persona. The Oikawa beneath him looks so genuine and so _human_ , and the knowledge that he alone has experienced this unguarded side of him is enough to make the corners of Iwaizumi’s mouth quirk. 

“What are you smiling at?” Oikawa asks.

“Nothing,” Iwaizumi says, leaning down to kiss him again. “If you’re tired, let me handle this.” He expects some resistance, but Oikawa merely returns his half-grin and waits.

He begins to make his way down Oikawa’s chest and stomach, biting and sucking until red marks start to blossom on the milky skin and brushing his calloused fingers over Oikawa’s nipples. Iwaizumi takes his time here, both to accommodate his boyfriend’s drowsiness and for his own enjoyment. He’s seen Oikawa in various states of undress hundreds—no, _thousands_ of times in the almost two decades they’ve known each other. But whenever Oikawa is spread out before him like this, Iwaizumi treats his body as uncharted territory, working over every inch of lean muscle as if it’s the first time. 

Oikawa’s breathing grows heavy as Iwaizumi mouths along the inside of his thighs, and he grasps urgently at the firm hands holding his hips. 

Iwaizumi lifts his head from between Oikawa’s legs, and the sight that greets him is nothing less than incredible—Oikawa, cheeks glowing a deep pink, looking like he might cry if teased any longer. 

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asks. He slides one hand down the hard line of Oikawa’s pelvic muscle, fingers coming to rest just millimeters from his dick. “Giving up already?”

“Iwa-chan, _please_ …” 

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi growls, the desperate plea traveling from his ears straight to his groin. For a moment he considers abandoning his plans to go slow, longing instead to take the whole of Oikawa’s length into his mouth, suck him off fast and rough: the kind of blowjob normally reserved for the times when they stumble home drunk on a Friday night and can’t even make it to the bedroom before they’re tearing each other’s clothes off. 

But then again… 

Then again, they can do that sort of thing any time. But this, here, the two of them tangled up in bed in the early hours of a lazy weekend, this doesn’t happen every day. He looks up at Oikawa again, right into his eyes—a muddled haze of lust and fatigue and, most importantly, pure adoration—and in that moment, Iwaizumi knows he can’t let a moment like this go to waste. 

He closes his lips over the head of Oikawa’s cock, circling it with his tongue and lapping up the thick beads of precum that have gathered there. Oikawa twitches, hissing as he teases the sensitive underside. 

Iwaizumi pulls back. “You alright?” 

“Yes,” Oikawa breathes, hips canting, “Keep going.”

All too eager to obey, Iwaizumi licks up the shaft with long, thick motions that leave Oikawa shaking, rolling his tongue around the head one last time before taking him deeper. Gripping Oikawa’s cock with one hand, he strokes the base as he takes him deeper into his mouth, dragging his lips up and down Oikawa’s length one centimeter at a time.

He looks up at Oikawa, straight into his eyes, holding his gaze as he works. Oikawa whimpers, eyes widening as if surprised by what has left his mouth and looking almost bashful as his body trembles—but keeping his stare locked on Iwaizumi’s own all the same. 

Iwaizumi can hardly suppress a groan of his own, erection throbbing almost painfully with every noise and movement Oikawa makes. The achingly slow pace is almost too much, and he wants to _move_ , wants to finish Oikawa off with a quick few motions and take care of his own insistent arousal. But Iwaizumi is determined to unravel him completely, take him apart bit by bit until he’s gasping for release.     

He feels a tug at his arm, and before he can break away to ask what’s wrong Oikawa pulls his free hand into his own, linking their fingers together as tightly as he can. 

It won’t be long, Iwaizumi thinks, as little whines and moans spill from Oikawa’s lips with every stroke of his tongue. He sinks down over Oikawa’s length, taking him centimeter by centimeter until his nose meets soft skin and Oikawa’s cock brushes the back of his throat. Oikawa's chest heaves, and he grips both Iwaizumi's hand and hair as if holding on for dear life. 

“I’m—,” Oikawa chokes, struggling to catch his breath. His thighs are trembling, and Iwaizumi can tell he’s impossibly close, only milliseconds away. 

Iwaizumi draws back to the head of Oikawa's cock, tonguing the slit hard one more time—and then Oikawa is coming, gasping Hajime over and over, hips jerking erratically as Iwaizumi guides him through his orgasm. 

Iwaizumi barely has time to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand before Oikawa tugs at his shoulders and beckons him up again, pulling Iwaizumi’s lips hungrily against his own and moaning when he tastes himself on Iwaizumi’s tongue. The noise—lewd, yet completely sincere—is almost too much to handle, and Iwaizumi adjusts so he can tend to his own painfully neglected erection. 

“Wait,” Oikawa mumbles, reaching down and rearranging their grips so that his slender fingers can rub the pulsing head of Iwaizumi’s cock while Iwaizumi wraps his around the shaft. They share only a few sloppy kisses before Iwaizumi comes, shuddering into Oikawa’s hand and across his stomach and thighs. 

They lie side by side for some time, and the heavy air settles around them as they allow their breathing to slow. Finally Oikawa moves, stretching and nestling himself against Iwaizumi’s chest with a contented sigh. 

“Hey,” Iwaizumi murmurs, “shouldn’t we clean up?” 

Oikawa makes a muffled noise that sounds suspiciously like _don’t wanna_ and buries his face further into the space between Iwaizumi’s torso and the bed. 

There’s no point in trying to fight back now—after so many years together, Iwaizumi knows how notoriously stubborn Oikawa can be, and it’s clear from the way he molds himself against Iwaizumi that he has no intention of getting up any time soon. 

And, well...truthfully, Iwaizumi has no qualms about staying here like this, either. Though his drying cum is sticky where Oikawa’s stomach and legs meet his own and he can feel beads of sweat cooling on his back, he can’t bring himself to move. He runs his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, feathery and soft even before a shower, and watches the even rise and fall of Oikawa’s shoulders as he drifts back to sleep. 

At last, Iwaizumi surrenders to the drowsiness of his post-orgasm haze, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of their entwined bodies envelop him. 

And this—lying in bed on a Sunday morning with the one he loves in his arms—this, too, feels inevitable.

**Author's Note:**

> pretty sure the last time i wrote sex was when i was like.......14


End file.
